The Architect of Caras Galadhon
by kingmaker
Summary: Some silliness regarding the appearance of Caras Galadhon. Galadriel finds the perfect architect to build the heart of elvendom on earth.


The Architect of Caras Galadhon

            Galadriel surveyed the destruction. She had never seen anything like it. Where roughly half of the buildings in the new city of Caras Galadhon had been complete yesterday, today there were only broken ruins lying on the ground. But the ancient Noldor had seen such destruction before, far worse than this. What shocked her were the trees. None of them looked as though they had lost so much as a single golden leaf. How could a storm wreak so much havoc with the constructions and leave the trees untouched?

            Celeborn strode purposefully up to her, his face somewhere between disgust and delight. "I told you, dear wife, that we could not recreate Menegroth above ground, but did you listen? No, you just _had_ to have a new kingdom of those caves, but _no_ we couldn't rent mountain space from the Naugrim, we had to hire a _human_ crazy enough to try to build it in the trees and we had to spend more to buy and move the stone than it would have taken to buy Fanuidhol, and now it's all broken on the ground. Ah Valar, why did I have to marry such a stubborn woman? I told you it wouldn't work. 'But I can keep it intact with Nenya,' you said. Honey, it would take Nenya, Vilya, Narya, and Sauron's ring to keep that lot up. I mean…"

            "You can shut up now, Celeborn, before I task you to redesign the city. Nenya was working _perfectly fine_ until whatever the hell happened last night. Look at the trees. They've not been touched. There was ill magic at work."

            "Ill magic? Riiight. Face it, love, you aren't omnipotent, and, as far as I can tell, the Valar still aren't thrilled with you, so I shouldn't expect…"

            Before Celeborn could continue or Galadriel could retort, leading them to another rehashing of the 'is she banned or does she stay of her own free will' argument, Haldir interrupted. "It is, my lady, as you thought. The architect is nowhere to be found. All his belongings, including the advance you gave him on his work, are gone as well. All he left were his plans, with 'And I thought elves were smart and magically powerful… Suckers! I guess Nenya doesn't work so well when its wearer is occupied with "other nocturnal activities" ' scrawled across the blueprints for the marvelous three storey pillared Great Hall of Galadriel."

            Galadriel and Celeborn looked highly embarrassed at this pronouncement, but if Haldir noticed he gave no sign. Galadriel recovered her composure swifter than her husband and, with a smug grin, observed "As I was saying, ill magic was at work." Celeborn cleared his throat but then had the good sense to keep his mouth shut, knowing that he was totally in the doghouse and it would be several weeks before he could again partake in "other nocturnal activities." So, without further objection, he slipped into the patented 'Celeborn Non-Entity Mode,' wherein he could stand, looking regal, majestic, and somehow important, for days on end without uttering any significant or intelligent statements, freeing his mind to wander whither it would (usually settling on the many delightful memories of nights in Doriath within five minutes).

            This suited Galadriel fine. "Oh well. We're elves. We can deal with setbacks. Haldir, go around and see if you can find me a new architect. Bring him here as soon as you find him. I await your return." With a bow and a glowing "Yes, my Lady," Haldir departed. With nothing better to do until he returned, Galadriel switched her thought-reading capability into scan mode and had shortly found the fantasy section of Orophin's thought library.

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            Some time later, Haldir returned and Galadriel, sensing his presence, withdrew from her reverie, only to find him standing right in front of her, staring unabashedly and with his mouth slightly open. "Erm… Haldir? Did you find a candidate?"

            Haldir transitioned back to alertness so smoothly and swiftly that Galadriel wondered if she had imagined him staring at her, but a lingering drip of drool on his cheek confirmed it. "Yes, my Lady," he said and gestured over his shoulder, to a small figure standing perhaps ten yards back. "I know he doesn't look the part, and his linguistic skills are lacking, but I think he understands us when we speak, and he has the experience to do what is necessary in Caras Galadhon."

            Galadriel turned a puzzled eye towards the figure. It looked like a dwarf from this distance, but she could discern no garments cloaking its absurdly hairy body. She looked closer at its face and saw a surprising intelligence in its eyes but, even stronger than that, a lovability that, in her mind, transcended its oddness and, for reasons she would never be able to express, somehow justified its presence in a world where it otherwise seemed totally out of place. She looked up. "I believe you Haldir. This is the one. This is the one who will build Caras Galadhon to be a noble and awesome city, the true heart of elvendom on earth." With a gesture, she summoned the creature forward and became all business.

            "Okay, we tried the cave thing, it didn't work, so now we are all about practicality. As much as it shames me, we will follow the patterns set out by my pissy son-in-law. No, we aren't going to duplicate Rivendell; I refuse to sink that low, and besides, the trees couldn't support that much stone."

            "Stone there was here, yet wood there is still in Lorien," uttered Celeborn, with only the tiniest hint of inflection.

            "Okaaaaaay. That said, we will follow the general patterns and motifs of Rivendell, but make them lighter and less severe. I want Caras Galadhon to be bright, frivolous, airy, and perhaps a bit playful as well. Elrond never looks frivolous, and neither does his abode. You'd think being married to my daughter and siring those darling children would have wrought an improvement upon his visage, but no, he still perpetually looks as though he has something unpleasant up his ass. Like Rivendell, but light, frivolous, airy and, of course, built entirely in the trees. Do you think you can handle that?"

            Without hesitation, the architect nodded and, in his foreign tongue, uttered his assent.

            "Yub dub."

Author's Notes: I know I should have written this up a long time ago. This dates to the second or third time I saw Fellowship (this time with Jastaelf and her family). When I saw the city, the thought sprang to my mind, unbidden, "The Ewoks go Gothic." Against my better judgment, I mentioned it to Jastaelf, who proceeded to nearly choke herself trying not to laugh out loud and disturb the whole theater. This story is therefore dedicated to her. In addition to her part in this incident, she is also the person who got me started on ff.net. This one's for you, Jastaelf.

The usual disclaimers: Galadriel, Celeborn, Haldir, Orophin, and Caras Galadhon all belong to Tolkien (to whom I apologize, as these more closely resemble humorous ff.net caricatures than the real characters). The Ewoks belong to George Lucas. I am making no money from this.


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